


The Makers Bride

by Lyriumlotus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Death, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Smut, idk???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyriumlotus/pseuds/Lyriumlotus
Summary: The Maker wept for His Beloved, cursed Maferath, cursed mankind for their betrayal, and turned once again from creation, taking only Andraste with him. And Our Lady sits still at his side, where she still urges Him to take pity on His children.—From The Sermons of Justinia II...............................................................................................Lathuven finds herself a spirit, and struggles to come to terms with the loss of her mortal life,whilst the Dreadwolf keeps her close to heart, for fear of losing her again.Yet it isn’t ‘she’ who needs protecting, because even within the safety of the fade and the Golden City,there are enemies who wish revenge on the Wolf, as she sits by his side, and begs him to spare those she loves in the World below.





	1. The Makers Bride

 

The smoke burns at her eyes, causing them to water in their natural defense and she can hardly see anything as her vision blurs, but she keeps her magical shield reinforced and focused. Her eyes set on the blurred images of the men and women that they fight among the fumes, for surely they also have difficulty seeing just as she does.

 

Thunder rolls and rumbles fiercely overhead , with the occasional roar of lightning to accompany it,

and rain falls ever so lightly from the grey clouds above to the World waiting below, doing little to squelch the flames and billowing smoke of their angry war.

Winter.

Is her spellcasting and it responds to her calling, with a raise of one lyriumally infused metallic arm made of metals and wires, cogs and rubbers. The arm is embedded with anagrams of spellworking and rune stones that make it light up like the stars, to bring down the snow.

It is not for the enemies however, it is for them, so it is lighter in strength,

A desperate attempt to combat the fire and fumes surrounding them, to help them to see.

 

The sound of screaming, of people lying on the battlefields wailing from slow agonizing deaths and

shrieks of fear or uproars of fury hurt her ears.

 

There is too much… Simply too much..

 

Everyone is fighting, everyone is killing each other. Everyone is dying.

 

Lathuven cannot even hear her own yelling, as she attempts to shout commands and to implore her people to stand their ground..

It is a matter of importance that they do not give in this day.

Not now when they are finally taking back some ground.

 

There are Qunari, fighting against Tal Vasoth. Tevinter imperials fighting against those who wish for a liberated Tevinter.

The oppressive Chantry against those who want it to be a people of peace. Circle against Circle,

Templar against Templar, Mage against mage…. And so forth.

 

One side always wants to rule with tradition, oppression, and force.  

The other wants change and freedom and choice.

 

Sometimes It is hard to tell which of which, is who.

 

Lathuven can even feel the ground rumbling and shaking under her feet, and she fears for what wakes and lays hidden beneath, but for now,

it is just the force of so many people that causes the ground to tremble.

 

Heavy hitters with swords and double handed axes, or the cannons and trebuchets flinging heavy rock and burning coals into the chaos to help lay waste to all armies.

Sentinel elves atop massive Harts, seemed to drift through the pandemonium firing arrows of fire into the sea of people.

Fenharels people.

They are enemy and yet they are not. They fight today, against oppression, so today they are not her enemy but her ally.

If only by association.  

 

She couldn’t tell anymore, who was fighting for who, who was with her and who against.

It was just about staying alive at this point.

 

A lone figure, cut its way through the thickness of black smoke, a tall man donned in burned chantry attire and clutching his own bloodied arm to his side. A No-threat, that someone couldnt bother to finish at this stage, she expected, as the vile man limped directly towards her.

 

“The Wolf Whore” He spat at her, not close enough to reach its mark, through bared and bloodied teeth, eyes as red stricken as an addict, yet his only addiction had been in seeing her pay some kind of a price as he sent assassin after assassin, and army after army to end her journeys.

 

“Kordana Drakon...” Lathuven squinted through narrowed eyes. “You’re still slithering around quite well I see….Congratulations should be in order, I suppose? I didn’t actually expect you would step out into a ‘real’ battlefield. Thought you liked it too much to stay hidden within the safety of long grass.”

 

He clenched a bloodied dagger in his hand with such force, that the clawed and wrinkled hand wrapped around its handle, seemed to whiten and shake.

Foam forming at the corners of his mouth as fury coiled within him and he striked.

 

Lunging towards her with full intention to kill.

 

She side swiped his attempts though easily of course, because the old fool is no fighter.

He was just a power hungry chantry ruler, hiding behind a name, as he went against those like Mother Giselle and herself for refusing to bow knee.

 

“Idiot old man.. You do not belong here” She accused at him.

 

“ **YOU** are the one who does not belong… Look around at what you have have helped create? Look at the dying.. the wounded.. You think you are saving people?

You have condemned them to their deaths!” He spat.

 

“No. They were _already_ dying” She said, shaking her head in disbelief. “How do you not see that?.

When your marches went through their villages, their clans, their homelands. You chained and locked them away. Made them slaves, tranquil and outcasts.”

 

She waved a hand around them, not that they took their eyes from one another.

 

“This?. This is people fighting so that their children and their children’s _children_ do not fall upon the same fate…. This.. is a people, tired of pretending their neighbors do not suffer a worse fate then they, and those who are weary of being willing prisoners to a society that hates them for nothing more then how or where they were born or made…

I didn’t make this… It was a consequence of actions born long long ago. This is people acting for themselves, because they would rather die quick on a battlefield,

then slowly in chains!”

 

She flicked her metal wrist, forming a spear made entirely of cutting cold ice from the snow around her feet.

 

“But If you must spend the rest of your wretched days, hissing and throwing blame to others, then by all means. Lets have at it”

Lathuven beckoned him with her other hand and he took little time charging her again with the dagger raised high.

 

She swiped his feet from under him, this time with the end of her ice spear when she _again_ side stepped his predictable attack,

causing him to topple face-first into the muck of sludge and ash behind her, and she spun herself about, to be facing him again before he had time to even collect himself.

 

Kordana pulled himself up weakly by the arms… feeling around for the dagger he had dropped.

It’d probably sunken into the mud… causing him to go made with rage as he desperately felt around for it again.

Finally he seemed to have found it and whipped around to face her fully.

 

“I won’t stop.. I won’t stop until every single one of you.. is wiped from the map of Thedas ...”

 

She had no clue if he meant ‘elves’, or just ‘people who disagreed with our authorities’ in general at this point, but he was probably too far gone mad, to even know himself.

 

Only, his eyes widened suddenly, on something behind her, and she chanced a quick peek over her shoulder, too late to react as a riderless wounded Hart blindly ran and collided into her. She turned, attempting to take the brunt of the weight, for there was no time to ‘quick dash’ away or think of anything else, except steer its head away and hoped it would follow, it collapsed heavily in a heap just passed them and Dorian ran over to check on her.

“Makers breath… I thought we had lost yo-?”

 

Her body jolted and tensed, as her eyes expressed a look of startled shock.

 

“Lathuven?! ...What is it?” The Tevinter Magister panicked rushing to his friend.

 

Her eyes fell, pained and frightened, to look at him and she stumbled forward, clasping at something in her chest.

 

Dorian caught her in his arms and eased her to the ground gently propping her up enough on his knee.

“No… No no no no nooo.. This can’t be happening.. This can’t be happening! You’re not allowed to die.. ”

 

He slipped his gloved hand free and felt around her chest looking for the wound that seeped heavy with blood through her Dalish armour. Light pouring from his fingertips to flow into and heal her, but it was not enough..

His other hand on her back did much the same, attempting to close the wound in vain.

 

Regenerative magics could not heal something as severe as this.

If they had, there would be no such thing as dying people on battlefields…

It just wasn’t something someone could often walk away from.

 

Lathuven was mumbling something to him, trying to clutch at his robes, as if it would somehow keep her here.

He finally took her hand in his own, when the healing spell did all it possibly could.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry my dear friend. I’m sorry..” He cried.

 

This wasn’t how she was supposed to end. She was too good for this.. She deserved better.. but life could be cruel and death wasn’t a picky fellow.

 

It didn’t take long for the strength to leave her weakened body,

and her mind cried out in fear as she felt darkness closing in around her.

She knew her friend was there besides her and some small part of her was grateful she wouldn’t be alone as she died,

but his voice sounded very very far away by now and she couldnt feel his hand on hers anymore.

 

“ _I don’t want to die.. I don’t want to die.. I don’t want to die…_

_I’m frightened… Please.. I don’t want to die… Please, someone…?!”_

 

She cried, voiceless, tearless. And all was silent and she was gone.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

He felt it like a pain to his own chest, And he _‘knew’_ instantly for what it meant.

 

She was gone, his heart was no more. He had _truly_ lost her now.

 

And It tore through him with an agony unlike any he thought he would have to revisit again.

 

This time, it was not a sorrow for his people, but for one. For her.

 

The World felt eerily silent, like it too had stopped to register the terrible news.

 

Though, another emotion began making its way into the place where his heart had once been.

 

_Rage._

 

‘They’ had killed her, she was a rare spirit, a shining light of hope, in a world full of despair, and they had cut her down like nothing.

 

He stormed from his place up high, The Golden City, hidden within but always in plain sight, of the Fade where none but a few could reach.

 

The Dread Wolf flung open its golden gates and hurried past his startled followers, to the swirling whirlpool that opened up as an entryway to the World of the living below.

 

Mission be damned in this moment. For he would seek revenge on the one that took her life.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Dorian had stopped crying enough to finally chance a look around.

 

The battle had stopped.

 

How had he not even noticed?

 

As everyone on either side of the war, stood silently, watching as the Herald lay dead in the arms of her Magister friend.

 

Perhaps they hadn’t realised, she could die?

She was supposed to be sent by Andraste herself, after all, wasn’t she?

How can one of the _chosen_ , die like this? Even those that did not believe her to be, seemed at a loss for words.

 

Kordana himself finally snapping back to reality, to look at the bloodied dagger in his hand, and then to drop it like it was somehow a poisonous thing about to strike.

 

“What.. Have I done?” He asked no one, for he too knew that something wrong had transpired, he just couldn’t figure out for what it was.

After all, wasn’t this what he had wanted?.

 

The silence was as deafening as the screams earlier had been.

 

Until the sky itself tore open with a force that blew many of them from their feet and others yet who managed somehow to stand their ground with use of weight, strength or shield.

 

A lightening strike of blinding pure energy fell from the centre and dissipated just as quickly, leaving behind the figure of an Elvhen man dressed in gold armour and wolf pelts.

 

The Dread Wolf himself had arrived.

 

He moved straight through the crowds, and people, enemy or his own, were quick to step aside,

when they lay witness to the look upon his face when he neared.

A clear line was made from him, and he took it, straight to where he knew ‘she’ would be.

 

Sera was the only person who did not move for him.

 

No, rather when he neared, she balled her fist up tight and sent it straight into the side of his face.

She did not hold back. Not even for him.

He didn’t move, because even in this rage, he knew he deserved it.

“This’s your fault!” Sera cried, chin bobbing and eyes wet “She never woulda been in any’a it if it weren’t for you!”

 

It was true. Wasn’t it? Some dark recess of his mind echoed at him.

 

You let your people guide Coryphues to your orb, so he could unlock it and die from the force of its power.. Only he hadnt died at all, as was planned,

and If he didn’t have that god-given power handed over to him, He would not have caused the destruction he did, ensuring one Dalish woman would accidentally stumble across and waylay his plans by getting the power of the orb, accidentally trapped within her own body.

 

Solas at the time, had managed to contain it as best he could, to the region of her hand, as she lay unconscious in Havens cells, but it still ate at her over the course of their journeys and even their time apart, until he had no choice left but to get her alone, one last time when he was stronger enough to do so, to release her of her burdens and take his power back.

 

By then however it had already laid waste to her arm. Making it utterly useless and in need of removal in case of the rot spreading.

 

Had she not gotten wrapped up in all of this. She may have had the chance to go back home to her Clansfolk after, to be safely out of harms way.

 

What good did it do to think of ‘what ifs’ However?

 

“She loved you! Defended you and even fought for you.. and you let her die!”

Sera cursed as more tears dribbled and dripped from her eyes and only when she realized he was crying too did she shove him and walk away.

 

He could see her now.

His Vhenan.

 

Lying still in the arms of the Tevinter. _It did not feel real,_

to see someone who was always so alive, suddenly not moving or speaking or laughing.

It just felt oddly ‘wrong’. Even when he knew death to be a natural process for all mortal people.

 

It quietened the rage within him to see her again, and he somehow managed to will his feet the last few steps to get there.

Falling heavy to his knee’s beside them. His arms limp at his sides,

until Dorian, Someone he once considered something of an ‘almost friend’, lifted her to him.

 

And he opened his arms silently and accepted her into them.

 

Her eyes had been closed. He was grateful for that one small thing.

Eyes are the windows to the Soul after all, and to look into them and see only a glass-less stare looking back, it would have wrecked him.

Now, here, like this, she looked little more then someone sleeping.

He tried to ignore the feeling of coldness to her cheek when he pressed her closer to himself, kissed her cold cheek, her nose, her temple, her head.

but there was little denying she was no longer here.

 

A single sob tore its way from his throat.

To bounce and echo upon the fields of the silent who stood there haunted, watching.

 

and then like a dam, The fearsome Dread Wolf broke.

crying, sobbing and shaking in full force as he clutched her shaking and trembling with the grief that wracked him.

 

Dorian had never heard a man cry like that before.

 

Oh sure,

He had heard many men crying over heartbreak or loss of a loved one, in his own journeys, everyone cried, Even Qunari in secret.

but nothing so vulnerable and sorrowing as an immortal being losing his first mortal love.

 

Nobody attacked In this time. A small wonder since Fenharel was clearly vulnerable.

No one had the gall, perhaps because they realised that it could have been them and their lover lying there like that. So they gave him the moment he needed.

 

It felt like hours, before Fenharel stopped crying, and hours after that where he just sat there silently rocking with her.

It could have been only minutes for all anyone knew, but finally he seemed to move.. Gently handing her back into the care of her dearest friend Dorian.

He would take care in seeing she was rightly returned home to her Clan. To her parents.

Solas knew without a doubt that Dorian had always and will always do right by her.

 

He stood, raised his chin and closed his tired eyes….

Letting the cool wind brush across his tear-streaked face.

Allowing the gentle rain from the skies above go cool his heated face.

 

There is nothing to be done here, as she is gone..

and he will continue to mourn her from the Golden City when he returns.

 

Aside from one last thing however.

 

“Who?” He asked, and when his eyes opened again, they were made of pure blue light.

 

No one needed to ask what he meant and all looked straight to Kordana.

 

Kordana looked quickly from them to him “I.. I-I..I...”

 

The Dread Wolfs lip twitched, and then he bared his teeth in a silent snarl

“You.” as he began walking slowly towards him, head tilting slightly “You … killed her with a knife to the back like… Like some kind of a coward?”

 

“I.. I’m sorry.. I -”

 

“You feel no remorse.. you feel only fear of what you have done..What it will mean for you..”

 

He stalked towards him with clear intent to kill and Kordana started scuttering back like the coward he made himself out to be..

Bumping into people.. Sentinel elves, and dwarves, and the humans. He grabbed a few and begged “Please… believe me.. it was a mistake… “

but they only brushed him off with disgust or equal fear.

Even those of his own supporters would not step in the way of this one.

He was alone..

And he saw that now, in a battlefield where no one had his back.

So instead he turned back to the Wolf clad in gold, that watched him intensely like one might a snake who is about to have its head bitten off.

 

“No please… please… If I could but take it back”

  
  
The Wolf scoffed and sneered “You think apologies would do? Regret makes you innocent? If I locked away oppressive rulers for centuries..

What do you suppose I will do to someone like you?”

 

Kordana snivelled and threw his hands together in prayer.

“I beg you Wolf.. Please I beg you, I know I was wrong.. I don’t ask freedom or forgiveness,

Only a chance to-”

 

Yet when the Wolf saw the blood stained there, it enraged him even more so.

 

“Enough!” He growled through gritted teeth coming to stand before the coward

who kneeled in mud. “When I am done with you… you will wish f-”

 

His ears twitched. Once. Twice. Something? He could feel something in the air. 

 

Turning his ears towards the direction of the Fade, he finally heard them clearer.

 

Spirits were talking. Something new was happening, that all the spirits had sensed.

 

“ _Shes here!”_

 

“ _Hope is here.. She’s here!”_

 

“ _She found her way home”_

 

“ _How exciting! I’ve never met a … a hope before!”_

 

“ _We had a hope before, remember?”_

 

“ _Oh yes, but that was a lonnnnng time ago...”_

_  
“Very long”_

 

 

“ _Can you sense where she is? It is faint but she is there. Frightened, confused, too many emotions, I’m drowning! I can’t see, Please make it go away!”_

Said the last Spirit. Known as Compassion. Known as Cole.

 

Solas spun around, so abruptly that the people gathered around, all but flinched.

his blue eyes dimming to their more natural ones.

 

“Shes Alive?”

He seemed to ask of no one.

 

“ _No. She died… But_ _Yes. It is her, it ‘_ _is_ _’ her!”_ Cole exclaimed excitedly from somewhere in the fade.

 

He needed little more convincing, as he summoned the tear in the sky, and was again, transported to where ever he came, carried by a bolt of pure energies, that came from within it and disappeared in a flash.

 

Leaving behind a startled people of every sort.

 


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She needs to get to him.

 

The Light shall lead her safely

Through the paths of this world, and into the next.  
For she who trusts in the [Maker](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Maker), fire is her water.  
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,  
She should see fire and go towards Light.  
[The Veil](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/The_Veil) holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.

—Transfigurations 10:1, often sung by mourners as they light candles

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

The Dreadwolf stepped back through into the world of the Fade, The spirits that had been drawn near, curious by the buzzing of activity below, now scatter like leaves in the wind

 

He is already searching, casting out his power in search of her signature. Calling to her and hoping she will recognise him.

 

He had always been able to find her anywhere in the World, even when she no longer held his power in her palm, for she had an energy and a scent about her that was as unique to her as everyone elses was to them.

He knew hers as well and more dearly then he knew his own.

 

“Cole? I cannot sense her.. Are you certain it ‘is’ her? You are not mistaken?”

He asks with a hint of pain, because for all he knows, hes prematurely hoped for too much too soon.

 

Silence for a moment, and then

“Yes! But she is struggling. Everything is new. The sky is new, the ground is new, **‘I’** am new. Nothing makes sense!”

 

“Can you lead me to her?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

 

Another painfully long pause

 

“No. She is too frightened, she keeps losing form. Here? gone. There? Non-existent!

Flits and darts to and fro, one moment and the next… _it is very exhausting_ ”

 

Solas is losing patience and becoming sick with worry, though this probably explains why he cannot trace her. She is struggling to calm and maintain herself

 

“I can bring her too you” Cole suggests

 

And Solas, much as he does not like the idea, knows its probably best, accepts.

“Do that please. I will await her, at the Golden City.”

 

No reply.

 

He can do nothing more now then wait.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

It is crucial that he calms her, but she is panicking and trying to get away from herself.

 

“Silly. You can’t outrun yourself. You’re always where you are”

Compassion tells her when he finally catches up

“You’re only making yourself tired, doing that..”

 

She hears him, like voices through murky water at first, adjusting to a new way of hearing,

but she struggles to see from where the voice came.

 

Everything is wrong here.

Upside down, inside out, this way and that.

Everything is heightened, strange new colours exist and she doesn’t even know their names….

and she can _see_ sound mixing and swirling into a symphony of vibrations that tugs and pulls at something inside of her as much as it does at the world around her.

Everythings connected. Everythings severed.

Emotions are collected in pockets of air that are thick like clouds,

and when she falls through them she is overcome with feelings so intense and raw it hurts.

Fear, Happiness, Hunger, Victory.

 

She can feel others watching, talking. They speak of her and try to touch her. _She does not like that._ It frightens her. Its not normal. Her skin is gone. Her body is gone. She cant push them away. She has no hands with which to push with. Strange?

 

“Who said that? Do I know you?” She asks with a voice despite her lack of a mouth to speak it.

She knows it is her voice, but it is unusual to hear. It sounds much different now without her ears.  
  
“Yes. I am Cole. You don’t remember me, but we were friends once before...”

Compassion says.

 

They have a nice voice. It is gentle and soothing, and they don’t try to touch or crowd her.

It makes her pause and calm a little.

 

“Where am I? What happened?”

 

“You are In the Fade. You were dying. Do you remember?”

Compassion asks, then in a voice that mimics her memory, they continue;

“I’m cold and the pain is going… Oh Maker.. I’m dying.. Please… I don’t want to die.. Dorian…I’m so frightened.. I don’t want this, I want to stay! Don’t l-”  
  
“STOP!” She cries, covering her non existent ears. “Please no more...”

  
There are images in her mind, fragmented and confusing.

Names, faces, places, memories, its all so confusing, everything is like a jumbled puzzle in her head, but it is something to stop and hold onto.

Dorian? Which face is he? There are so many in her memories.

 

“I died? I am dead? I no longer exist anymore?”  
The thought terrifies her and she wants to flee from the reality of it again.

  
“Yes ...and No . You are here now. No longer tied. Loose and untethered, light and unbound.

You are not the other you, but you are another you. Your body is gone, but not your spirit. Half but suddenly more”

 

“I’m sorry… but you are one of us now..

You can no longer go back to what was before, It’s best you get used to that“

A spirit of Sadness declared behind her, with a gloomy sigh.

 

It makes her sad too even if she can’t remember fully why.

 

“Sadness.. Was that really necessary?“ Sympathy exhaled. Then drifted closer to look up at her “Don’t worry.. You’ll be alright.. just focus on what you can work on!

like.. your appearance. Because you were all over the place earlier”

 

She looks down to her hands and they are indeed formless. Golden light where hands should be.

 

“Concentrate.” Says the spirit, her friend called Cole “Your memory knows what you look like”

 

She can’t quite remember everything, but she remembers she can trust him, and so she does.

 

“You can remember your shape if you calm down and focus, it will come to you more naturally then” Says another spirit serenely. It does not tell her its name, but she somehow knows it is Patience.

 

“Ohhhhhh This is exciting! I wonder what Hope looks like!!!”

Anticipation, is the other spirit, it sounds and looks, almost childlike in nature, and it nears too close for her liking again, until Cole ushers it back to give her space.

 

“Hope? Is that me? Is that my name? …...” She asks confused “It does not sound like my name...”

 

“Your name is your name. Only _you_ know your name” Cole informs her and Patience, and Sympathy, nod in agreement.

 

That doesn’t seem to make any sense. Until Cole reads her added confusion and says

“No one else can tell you who you are, only you can...”

 

“Oh...” Well, that makes a little better sense. She looks again to her hands, and concentrates a little harder, it takes abit of trial and error.. trying to remember what they are supposed to look like here.

They alternate between spindly, like tree roots trying to reach out in all directions, to bulbous.

Both are nothing like her own..

 

Cole himself looks different to Sadness, Sympathy, Patience and Anticipation.

And She knows she looks different to every one of them.

So it isn’t easy

 

Finally, however, her hands seem to solidify into a more familiar form.

 

She is still glowing of pure light, but having fingers again is a relief..

She counts and wiggles them as if she is happy to see them all and she is mightily pleased with herself, until she recalls another memory, with surprise. One, where she only had the one arm instead of the two.. Well. Maybe she will keep this extra one for now.

 

She is also floating which seems strange.. and so she tries for her legs next.

 

One leg, and then ….two.

It is so much easier now that she gets it.

She wiggles her toes and is again pleased with herself, as are all the spirits around her.

 

Well except for maybe Sadness… they are only sighing and looking at her, dejected.

 

She is still floating a little off the ground, her toes can barely touch the floor, which kind of defeated the purpose of creating legs in the first place, but… she will work on that… Later.

 

Because this floating thing feels pretty good too.

 

“My name is.. Lathuven… Lath-U-Ven… Not Hope.” She corrects them.

 

“You _are_ Lathuven.. But you are _also_ … Hope” Cole re-corrects.

 

She scrunches up her face at him “How can I be both of those things when I can hardly work on being one of them?”

 

Sadness sighs, forlorn… but she ignores him, which only seems to make him sigh louder.

 

Her mental cognition is starting to kick in more now, it is like a fog that is lifting,

revealing a entire world of forgotten memories underneath, the further it rolls back, the more she recalls, and when she looks to Cole again, it is with renewed recognition and joy

 

“Wait.. I remember now.. Cole?! I-? … You’re here too?!”  
  
“Yes! I was always here!” He responded joyful at being remembered.

  
And she laughed and threw her arms around him with such vigour, he had to catch and twirl with her “It’s so good to see you again.. I missed you so very much sometimes”

 

“I know….I was listening. Always listening.” The spirit said.

She could feel happiness and relief, understanding and urgency vibrating from within him

“I couldn’t come to you though.. There was someone else who needed me more…”  


Someone?

… A face forms in her mind.

Beautiful sharp features, and sorrowful eyes.

  
**Solas!**

 

How could she have forgotten him? Even for a moment???? The thought horrified her,

but Cole coaxed her with that of understanding.

 

“You lost yourself.. But you are ‘here’ now..”

 

Yes.

Yes she was.

She wanted to cry.

But more then that.

She wanted, no _needed_ ... to see Solas.

 

“Where is He?” She asked through tears that threatened to fall from her formless face

 

Cole, and the others, looked to the Horizon.

 

“Can you feel him?”

 

Feel him?  
She blinked.

Looked past them to the far distance.

 

The place before them was a mish mash of … of ‘things’ it looked like someone had taken random chunks out of places and then seamed them all together to form one bizarre terrain.

 

It had been the same case before,

when she had entered the Fade in Adamant, but this part of the Fade wasn’t run by a Nightmare demon. There was less darkness and gloom…

 

Spirits by the dozens congregated together or wandered off by themselves

More beauty, visual grandness and only the odd hideous formation.

Castles and random tree’s, floating, sometimes upside down.

Waterfalls of blue, or green water, massive stones and giant structures carved from bone, precious metal or minerals. There were stranded ships, upturned houses and parts of decor everywhere.

She could recognise some of the things, her memory recalled seeing this kind of a bookcase in Antiva, This trophy casing in Fereldan or this weapon rack from the Avvar tribes

 

 

Past it all, to the distance, she could see, what was always present in the Fade.

The Golden City.   
Except it looked like a giant black silhouette from here.

 

She focused on it, knowing that of course would be where he dwelt,

and sure enough.. she felt it.

 

Him.

 

He is so many things.

Beautiful and free, sorrow and kindness, warmth and familiarity. Wisdom and Pride.

 

His presence felt _like_ the same kind of feeling you get when you are away for a long long time

and you finally return to the comfort and safety of your own home.

 

He shone like a beacon here, and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed it earlier.

 

It was calling to her, calling her home to him.

 

And she wept and wept and hurried towards it as fast as she was able.

Calling back. ‘I’m here, its me! I found you!’

 

But she was too weak to reach out to him and he would not hear.

 

Her mind and heart and soul all cried together in anguish when they knew.

 

He was so close.

 

The last time she had seen him was in the deep thicket of an old forest,

where he had chanced a visit to see her when she was alone for a rare moment

away from her companions, and they talked and cried and shared a laugh, a smile, a kiss and

a look of anguish when he’d eventually said;

“Vhenan, This is the last time we will see each other, _I can never come see you again_..”

 

Well, wouldn’t he be surprised when she knocked on his door?

She thought, laughing through a face full tears

 

“You tried to go straight to him before, but you stretched yourself so thin with the confusion and panic, you almost snapped and lost everything” Cole said from somewhere behind her

 

She was glad he was following, because as she went faster and faster, moving and flitting and cutting through the air in a speed that made everything except her focal destination, blur and bleed into each other. She could see a dilemma facing her ahead,

and she stopped before it.

 

It was a Eluvian. intact and glimmering. Guarded by Dragon statues of Mythal wrapping around its arch, and The Dread Wolf, or Wolves? howling to either side.

She knew it led her to him.

Yet… looking within, she could see only fire, looking back.

 

Reaching a cautious hand within the mirror, she quickly whipped it back when

it burned her.

 

“AHH!”

She shook her hand and held it close to her heart then looked to Cole, when he came to step beside her. “I am suppose to go through here, right?”

 

“Yes..” He said, like he was surprised she had to ask that.

 

“But its.. entirely on fire… in there….” She showed him her hand

and he looked from her to the hand and then back to her again.

There was nothing there to ‘be’ burned.

 

“You cannot get burned ‘unless you believe you can’… This is the Fade, remember? It only hurts because you think it does. ”

 

“um.” She cocked her head sideways “You really sure about that? It does ‘feel’ pretty darn real.. “

 

“He would not let you wander, if he thought you would be harmed here”

Cole’s gaunt face and pale eyes lit up and he disappeared within.

Leaving her alone to contemplate her fate.

 

_Right, well.._

_If it brought her closer to Solas????_

 

She took a deep breath… stepped closer, and then….. and then…..

 

“Nope. I can’t.. I can’t do this.. This is ridiculous!”

She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated with herself more then anything,

and sat with a _(humph)_ … at the feet of one of the Fen’harel statues.

 

Oh hey, at least she learned to actually sit.

 

……………………………………………………………………….

 

“May I ask, What you are thinking about?”

“Nothing”

“Ah. Then, May I sit and think of _‘nothing’_ with you as well?”   
She shrugged. “Do as you may” Then went back to thinking about nothing again.

The hedge mage, he called himself, Solas.

Busied himself with sitting beside her.

The grass was soft here, it playfully tickled at her toes

and there was a cool gentle breeze on the wind that put her heart at peace.

She liked it.

 

“A strange place to sit, considering you are Dalish”

He said looking away from her, and off into the distance.

 

“Because of the Wolf statue?” She asked, but he didn’t answer, so she continued;

“Habit of mine, to sit with old Fen’harel here.

It was the only place my people didn’t come to look for me.”  
She reached behind them to pat the statues paw affectionately.

“And, Between you and me, Fen’harel here is good at keeping secrets.”

 

He chuckled, chancing a look at her “You have told many secrets to the Dread Wolf?”

 

She nodded, looking more serious then the occasion called for.

“Certainly. I always use to stash my sweets here too.

Because I was smaller, the other kids would steal them..

Fen’harel always protected my treasures and secrets for me though.

So don’t knock him” She teased, with a fake fist of warning

 

And he laughed, holding his hands up in mock defence

“I assure you, I would not dream of it”

 

Until a voice further down the path, Varric’s, called upto them.

 

The horses were rested and they were ready to head further West.

 

“Well then” He stood and offered her a hand up. “I hope He never lets you down”

……………………………………………………………………….

 

 

That was a long long time ago of course, before she even realised that she loved him.

 

Times had changed, but in his own way, Solas had not.

He was always who he presented himself to be. It was just none of them, including her,

looked close enough to see.

 

She drifted to her feet.

No.

Cole was right.

She just needed to get a grip of herself here…

She’d faced worse then this, and even Solas himself had said the Fade ‘reflects’..

She just had to believe it.. _and I mean really believe it…_

 

Turning around to face the Great Eluvian again, She clenched her fists tight.

 

“I am _ **not**_ skin and bone, I am uh.. whatever the heck I am supposed to be made of..

which is non flammable.. apparently!”

 

Lathuven waited until her panic subsided… clearing her mind of fear..

An easy thing to do, once you concentrated on your own breathing for a while.

( A trick taught to her by her Clans Keeper, for your brain cannot focus on two things at once.

It forgets the fear. )

 

She just neglected to focus on the fact that she didn’t ‘have’ a brain right now, technically.

 

and then She stepped through.

 

What she saw when coming to the other end of the mirror, as her vision adjusted to her new surroundings, was that she was at the bottom of a very very _very_ long line of steps.

 

And that each step was made entirely of fire.

 

They led upwards and upwards into the clouds. Where the Golden City stood.

 

Cole was waiting for her at the bottom.

“I knew you could do it.” He said, simply.

 

She nodded to him, and began making the steep journey, up, only to stop and realise he wasn’t even following, nor was he even there any more.

 

“Cole?”

 

Ok, so she needed to brave this part alone.

 

No problem then.

 

Lathuven began the climb.

…………………………………………………………………...

 

 

Solas paced aimlessly around the throne room,

unable to relax as tension and worry coursed through him.

 

He would stop every once in a while when he’d hear the slightest sound, or imagined he’d had,

to gaze hopeful towards the entrance to see if she was there.

 

But nothing.

 

His mind was a mess.

 

Should they not be here by now?

Had Cole been unsuccessful in reaching her?

He still couldn’t feel her presence.

What if she couldn’t control and maintain her spirit form after all?  
Had he then lost the only chance to see her ever again?

What if a demon had taken her? She was a rare spirit after all…

she would have been a tempting sight for any in the area,

if they’d come across her.

 

Foolish.

 

He should have went straight to Cole.

He could have found her, brought her here, safe.

He never should have stayed here waiting.

Idiot. Fool. Imbecile.

 

“She is safe. She is coming. Only a few steps now. Tired but happy. It doesn’t hurt, Similar to being bathed in the warmth of the sun. Like mothers arms when I am sick. He is here. Brighter then any star, glimmering and calling. He is here. I am home”

Cole’s voice cut through his thoughts, and the confirmation that she is safe is near enough to bring him to his knee’s. Wait? Did he mention steps?

 

Of course!

 

The Dread Wolf ran down The Great Hall, flinging the doors open with a command of his own magic. He hurried to the fortified Gatehouse, issuing orders to the sentinel spirits that guarded there to open the gates and they quickly did so.

 

She was here. She was safe and she was here.

His heart cried relief and he stepped out then came to a stand still.

 

At the very end of the pathway, he could see her silhouette suddenly coming into view.

A glow of gold and white, her aura basking her form in a sheer brilliance of translucent light

that could blind any mortals eyes who gazed upon her for too long.

The Sentinel spirits pointed her out and chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

 

First just the top of her head, and then slowly, the rest of her as she finally took the last few steps up towards the City.

 

She froze too when she noticed him there.

And her glow dissipated, leaving a naked elven woman in its place.

The one he had first met, those many many years ago.

 

Recognition, relief, a smile.. oh how he missed that smile.. and then.. she collapsed.

 

He was beside her before she hit the ground, catching her up safely into his arms,

“Sleep, Lathuven, sleep. Recover your energy, for you are here and safe now.”

He gently reassured her. Then carried her into the Kingdom of Gold.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Solas ignored the few stares that drifted their way when they passed.

 

He would worry later for these consequences, for now, she was all that concerned him.

 

Taking her higher and higher, into one of the very top tower solar rooms, where she could be furthest from any who could wish harm or intrude curiosity upon her, and give her a place to safely rest.

It was so large here they had Eluvians in some of the rooms just to reach all areas, like the south to north blocks and the upper levels.

 

The room he carried her to, contained a large featherdown bed, which he lay her upon as if she were the most precious of all existent things in the World, and for him, she was.

 

She was a spirit now, but she still held onto her physical world in some senses,

so he pulled the sheets and blankets over her, to ensure she remained warm, set the fire burning in the chambers large open fireplace, then pulled a seat up beside her.

Taking her hand in his own, he watched over her as she slept.

 

Enthralled by the rise and fall of her chest or the way her lips parted when she mumbled or bore witness to things in her dreams.

Likely, she was sorting through memories, piecing them together again to heal her psyche.

 

The irony of coming full circle, and him being in a position where he watched over her as she rested vulnerably again, with her hand in his, was not lost on him.

 

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed them, gentle not to wake her.

 

She was so incredibly strong, so brave, so wondrous and fierce,

but she was also fragile and vulnerable and it had cost her.

A price he had long since foolishly wished, she should _never_ have to pay.

 

……………………………………………………………………………...

 

Lathuven’s dreams were a mirage of vibrancy,

She was seeing things, in her mind, that were unfamiliar, and then familiar.

 

A younger her, packing a tiny rucksack to travel to the Conclave and being hugged and kissed by people. Her Clansfolk, her Parents, her Keeper.

Until her guide informed it was time to go.

 

A left hand of seering unbearable pain, being soothed and calmed by two larger hands that rubbed gently, medicinal herbs into her skin, with a soothing voice that murmured healing spells to aid its calming.

 

Bickering on their travels, as she politely listens but occasionally loses it if he steps too far,

until she simply starts returning his answers with smart ass remarks or simple quips of humour which eventually divulges into them playfully challenging or unknowingly flirting with each other until Sera tells them to get a room. So they fall both fall quite with faces full of red.

 

Somewhere along then, she doesn’t remember exactly when, Lathuven realises her opinions of him had changed, and he is something of a dear friend and mentor to her, by now

and Sera’s remarks, although quickly brushed off before, now make her wonder if she has indeed fallen for the _too-proud_ elven man.

 

Sometimes she looks to him, and catches him staring but quickly looking away,

and she wonders if she imagines or hopes he may feel something for her too,

 

but she has made this painful mistake before in the past about other men and returned attractions,

assuming someone could possibly like her. Love her. Only to then be laughed away.

 

So most likely, he is simply doing what he always does best.

Watching and Listening to those around him. Gauging and informing when it is needed.

 

She becomes more interested in his world, when they no longer bicker.

She asks question after question and seeks out story after story.

And he is all too happy to provide.

Eager to share what he knows with those willing to stop and listen.

 

Another memory. She is a little older now, and has matured much on the road.

They are camped in Emprise du lion, and she cannot sleep because she is freezing

underneath all of the blankets. She hates the cold weather.

Which is an ironic twist of fate, since she is a winter mage.

 

Solas is one bedroll over, for they are sweethearts now, and they always share a tent when they travel, yet sleep separately for they have not bedded one another yet.

It is still much too soon for her to feel comfortable enough yet to be so intimate.

Tonight however, he beckons her to his bedroll with promises of only warmth.

And though she is impeccably shy, she welcomes the offer and crawls in with him.

 

Lathuven has never been this close to a man before and her heart flutters all over the place.

But he is respectful and only cuddles her close to him, until her shaking stops and they are both

cosy from the shared body warmth, that they sleep.

 

They hardly slept apart after that.

 

Another, They are dancing.

Her insecurities and doubts from earlier that night, washed all away, as he looks at her so intensely she has trouble maintaining eye contact and casts her eyes downward.

 

“You are so beautiful”

 

He always tells her this, and it makes her cheeks flush each time as if it were the first time it had reached her ears. She doesn’t believe she will ever get used to hearing it, and his fingers gently cup her chin to make her look up at him again so he can lean in to press kisses to her lips.

That night he finally does bed her, and he is gentle and reassures her if its too much, they can stop.

When tears prick her eyes and he freezes to ask if she is alright,

She nods, and tells him she feels more then alright.

They are tears of overwhelming happiness, of release,

and the ecstasy of giving love and being loved.

 

She is happy. She could live forever in moments such as these.

She thinks.

 

 

The next, is of them, after they have met Abelas and the other sentinel Elves from Mythals temple.

Lathuven has realised _these_ _ **are**_ his people, because he has said plentiful things or let enough comments slip here or there that she had started piecing her own puzzle of him together.

 

But she says nothing, because she is waiting.

Waiting for him to tell her of his own accord.

Yet he does not. The chances pass many times, and he does not.

She wonders why?

Then again, maybe she is just too over-imaginative.

 

A beautiful and painful memory follows.

 

Finally he has taken her away from Skyhold.

A special private date, just him and her alone, and he takes her to a hidden alcove.

One they had ventured into before, but now it held no poisonous Wyverns,

only sweet scented flowers, a serene waterfall and a parting in the canyon rocks above

that lets star and moonlight shimmer through.

 

This is it, she realises. He is going to tell her now.

 

But he falters, she can see it in his eyes, and he blurts out something else entirely.

 

She knows it isn’t at all what he first intended to say,

because why would he bring her here,

just to tell her this?

 

but she is also in shock at the discovery her vallaslin is a slave marking,

and all her people are unknowingly wearing them with pride and honour in their hearts and on their faces.

 

“It doesn’t matter” She decides after some thought.

Because she always tries to see a good thing from a bad;

“My people have reclaimed them, whatever they were before, It doesn’t define who we are now”

but still, when he offers to remove hers, she accepts. Reclaimed or not.

She hardly believed in the tales of her peoples Gods and Goddesses anyway.

She never felt right about getting hers, yet it was expected of her when she came of age,

and so she had stayed silent.

 

And when it is done, he kisses her. Tips her back and holds her tight as he pours his love into a single long loving kiss.

She thinks he is grateful she is not angry with him, so perhaps he will

tell her now of his heritage since he’s relaxed, but when they part, his expression quickly falls

and her heart sinks, because she knows, she is mistaken,

she is losing him to something.

 

They are broken apart now.

Her heart feels as cold as ice and as heavy as stone.

She tries not to drown in feelings of doubt, of insecurity, hurt and confusion.

But it is a difficult thing.

Because those feelings have plagued her for most of her life.

 

She knows him. Not all of him, _clearly_ , but enough to know he wouldn’t hurt her or anyone else for that matter, intentionally.

 

So she bites her tongue instead of lashing out. Tries to be mature and hides her hurt.

 

When people ask questions about her lack of vallaslin, she tells them politely.

 

When they ask why Solas and Her, are no longer together, she makes up something like

“We decided it was for the best”, or, “We just needed a break..”

But her heart aches routinely by the minute.. the food tastes like cardboard in her mouth,

and when people tell her jokes or good stories in attempts to pull her out from the inner pits of her own personal despair, they just fall on deaf ears.

 

Sera has found out, and she snaps at Solas publicly for how he went about it, how low he was to take her all the way out there only to break her heart and make her return home, alone.

 

She knows Sera means well, and in truth, Sera voices things she wishes she could say herself sometimes…

but she is hurt and upset, so she snaps at her well meaning friend instead, and then she snaps at

the well meaning spirit of compassion, Cole, for clearly telling Sera enough for the girl to figure it out on her own to begin with. Then she bursts into tears and storms away from them all, to her room in shame.

 

When she does bump into Sera again, days later after avoiding her for that shame, she sees the girl didnt take it to heart and instead, invites her up onto a roof to share cookies and tell bad poems.

They become better closer friends after that.

 

Solas tells her when she one day braves the question “why?”,

that “When Corypheus is gone, I promise all things will be made _crystal clear_ ”

She knows better than to hope though that things actually could be,

although her foolishly naive heart, betrays her and _‘hopes away’_ , anyway.

And then when the day finally comes, when Corypheus is at last defeated.

 

Solas vanishes without so much as a goodbye, and she realises then, that his actions, couldn’t possibly be more clearer _then that_.

 

As the weeks and months pass in a blur, she finds herself hurt and broken, hateful and bitter then sad and sorry. Only to repeat the pattern, again and again.

She tries to kick her own ass into action, tells herself to forget and move on,

but her heart and mind are stubborn and they refuse.

 

Cole sticks to her, trying to remember what or who made her sad.

But he has forgotten. It is a black spot in his memories.

She hasn’t.

She knows exactly why he cant remember.

For the very same week he disappeared, she came looking for Cole in Skyholds tavern,

only to overhear him mentally reading aloud a message Solas had sent him before taking his memory away.

 

Her love, hurt and bitterness clouded her ability then, to piece together a bigger piece of a puzzle

that was made almost complete, a couple years later when she met him again.

 

The months leading upto their trip to The Exalted council, had her hiding a new pain.

The one in her left palm. It had begun to worsen over time, and she could feel it

eating slowly away at her.

A pain that extended well past her palm to shoot up, into half of the nerve endings in her body.

 

Hide it as she may, she knew some had caught on.

Vivienne kept stopping her in the less populated areas of Skyhold to hand her bottles of things “Here my Dear, Try this one for me, won’t you?” She would say sweetly.

Sera would be caught, frowning downwards at her now-gloved hand,

only to then blurt out some cusswords and storm off.

Dorian would just drag her off to sit her in a chair and try something new

he’d just read or wanted to try.

 

To them, she would fake smiles and change subjects.

 

But when she lay in her room at night, clutching the agonising hand to her chest,

she was frightened truly, because she _knew,_ she was dying. It was going to kill her.

And the one person she wanted around her, was no where in sight.

 

Until they attended the Council, of nobles eager to see her forces gone, or allied with their own.

It’d played on her mind a while now, that It was time for the Inquisition to disband, but her answers were delayed by a single Dead Qunari, the discovery of active Eluvians within the Palace, and a plot uncovered to blow up said Council of leaders with _Dragons breath_ by command of a Qunari woman by the title of Viddasala.

 

Lathuvens hand had worsened by then as they uncovered more shocking truths along the way, including those about the Elven God, Fen’harel.

The power she wielded could no longer be contained. So immense was it that if she didn’t expel the excess surges in time, the force would drag her up like she was little more than a puppet into the air, then burst, throwing her back to the ground.

 

A mistake she only let happen, once.

 

Until finally wandering, and collapsing through one last Eluvian,

to come face to face with Solas. Decked in Gold and Fur.

The Dreadwolf her people had forever feared.

She knew then, that this is **‘why’**.

Why he had left, why he always wanted to tell her ‘something’

but never could he brave her possible response.

Why Cole said things that hinted at much much bigger things

and why, no matter how much she missed him,

he could never return to her side nor allow her at his.

……………………………………………………………………………….

 

Lathuven shifted, then sniffled and slowly opened her eyes.

She had been crying in her sleep.

A hand let go of hers, so she could bring her own,

upto her face to wipe away at the leftover tears.

 

Where was she? What time was it?

  
She felt so very warm and cosy here, it was tempting to roll over and fall back to sleep.

Instead, her eyes slowly adjusted to the room, taking in unfamiliar sights, until they landed on someone very familiar, staring at her with wonder and sorrow, and her heart leapt with joy

 

“ _Ma vhenan”_ They said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW: I have a Tumblr https://lyriumlotus.tumblr.com/ ;]

**Author's Note:**

> Only wrote it all today, so hope it wasnt too error prone.


End file.
